


Interspace

by laireshi



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Blood, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Light Angst, M/M, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 22:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20955581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: Dante couldn't touch. Not before Vergil let him, and no more than Vergil indicated, either. He would whine and push against every other order Vergil would give, but this wasn't an order. It was a limit, a boundary Dante could not, would not cross—even if Vergil would never acknowledge that in so many words.And really, onlylookingat Vergil, regal and alluring, was almost too much; Dante suspected he could die were he allowed to touch freely.





	Interspace

**Author's Note:**

> Don't look at me.

Vergil was always carelessly, effortlessly beautiful; more so when he was covered in Dante's blood. There were a few drops contrasting against his silvery white hair; a bright red smudge on his cheek that Dante wanted to lick off; yet more blood dripping down his fingers that Dante would enthusiastically take into his mouth.

He couldn't touch, though. Not before Vergil let him, and no more than Vergil indicated, either. Dante would whine and push against every other order Vergil would give, but this wasn't an order. It was a limit, a boundary Dante could not, would not cross—even if Vergil would never acknowledge that in so many words. 

And really, only _looking_ at Vergil, regal and alluring, was almost too much; Dante suspected he could die were he allowed to touch freely. (It would be a good sort of death, though.)

The wound Vergil had clawed through his chest finished healing, and as the remnants of pain faded, Dante found himself looking almost pleadingly at Vergil. He wouldn't beg . . . yet, but Vergil better do something soon.

Vergil just tutted, his eyes running up and down Dante's body. "Your clothing is ruined."

"And whose fault is it?" Dante raised an eyebrow at him.

Vergil tilted his head, a predator preparing to approach its prey. "Kneel, Dante."

One day. One day, Dante would not immediately drop to his knees when Vergil used this tone, almost soft compared to how he usually spoke, eliciting Dante's obedience but not by being forceful; a promise in exchange for compliance. Today, quite clearly, was not that day, and Vergil smiled down at him as Dante's knees hit the floor too hard.

"So eager to please me, little brother," he whispered, and Dante hated how it was just a simple fact that he couldn't even deny anymore, the proof of it in the space between them. He was Vergil's to do with what he would; always had been, even in the miserable, dark years of mourning his brother. Vergil owned him body and soul and it had been agonising when he'd been gone, and it was nothing less than exalting now.

But. 

He grinned too wide, tried to sound nonchalant, was pretty sure he failed completely. "You usually make it worth my while."

Vergil stepped closer. "Is that so, Dante?" He used the tip of his boot to spread Dante's knees wider. "Then would you disobey, if I kept you wanting?"

A soft noise left Dante's throat entirely against his will, because no, no, of course he wouldn't, but Vergil wouldn't be so mean, now would he?

(He absolutely would if Dante gave him the reason to.)

Vergil pressed at Dante's crotch with his boot, the sensation trapped somewhere between pain and pleasure. Dante arched up into the pressure anyway, and maybe he shouldn't be so hard just from kneeling at his brother's feet, but it was _Vergil_. Dante was pretty sure his body was conditioned to find whatever he did incredibly hot. 

Vergil teased him with his foot, moved it further down, towards his balls—and then he stepped away. "Well, little brother?"

Dante whined.

"Use your words," Vergil suggested.

Words. Right. Dante could do that.

"Want you," he let out.

Vergil chuckled. "You have to be more exact than that, Dante."

Vergil was _evil_, and Dante wanted him so much. And yeah, more of that pressure on his cock would be amazing, but. Dante wanted a rarer treat than just getting off. Vergil liked to watch him come undone, and he often did just that: watched, and ordered him, and made him hot and bothered with just the weight of his gaze on Dante. The times he touched him were less frequent, and if Vergil was in a mood good enough to get naked and climb into bed with Dante now, shake whatever horrors dwelled in his mind for a few moments, they would be there already.

But he'd touched him, in a manner. So maybe he'd let Dante . . .

Dante licked his lips, his eyes on the bulge in Vergil's trousers. "I want to suck you."

Vergil hummed thoughtfully. "Really? Why not choose your own pleasure? When, how did you put it, I _make it worth your while_?"

His hands were loose at his sides, but as Dante watched, his nails extended into claws. He smiled as he sliced through Dante's chest again, two deep gashes on the both sides, and what had remained of Dante's shirt until then fell to the floor in useless rags; Dante should've expected that after Vergil's earlier remark, really. The pain burnt bright for less than a second, and Dante's cock gave a twitch in the confines of his sadly intact trousers. Vergil brought his hand to his lips and licked the blood off, slowly, carefully fitting his tongue around each claw, chasing every last drop clinging to his fingers. He knew exactly how much Dante wished he'd let him clean his hand up, and he made it look absolutely obscene. Dante stared, transfixed, saliva gathering in his mouth at the sight.

"_Vergil_." So like his brother, to make Dante beg for the privilege of giving him a blowjob. (But it was a privilege, to touch Vergil's body, to make him lose his composure and feel good inside his own skin. He didn't have visible scars, but if he had, Dante was sure there wouldn't be a patch of unmarred skin). "_Please_."

"Very well, then." He stepped closer still to Dante, his posture perfect, like he was on a podium, delivering orders to his fearing and loving subjects—well, he was, in a way, and this was an order always meant for Dante's ears only, an allowance and damnation in one. "Come pleasuring me or not at all, little brother."

Yeah, Dante didn't think that would be a problem. 

He reached for Vergil, but Vergil, of course, elected to open his trousers himself, baring his skin only enough to take his cock out: an indecent, electrifying sight, the most beautiful thing Dante had ever seen in his life. He was hard already, because they both knew he enjoyed Dante kneeling and bloody in front of him. Dante had to lace his hands behind his back to stop himself from grabbing at Vergil's hips, and he leant in, his mouth open and ready for Vergil to slide into. 

Or he _thought_ he was ready, but he could never prepare for what the sensation of Vergil's cock on his tongue, hot and heavy, did to him. He was supposed to be the one making Vergil feel good, but he couldn't quite stop a moan escaping him. 

"Well, Dante?" Vergil drawled. 

Impatient big brother, but Dante was intent on making it the best for him, so he relaxed his throat, moved forward to take all of Vergil in before drawing back to tease with his tongue at his head. Vergil stood still, but Dante could almost feel how tense he was, his muscles coiled. He licked alongside the length of him, slowly, carefully; delighted in the way Vergil's breath caught in his throat. 

Vergil was always so controlled; calm and collected at all times, always sharply focused. That Dante could coax those reactions out of him—that Vergil trusted him enough for it—was almost humbling. That he could make Vergil's mind wander for him to end up in good places far away from his nightmares was something he'd never stop being grateful for. 

Dante swallowed him whole again, humming around him the way he knew Vergil liked. He moved his head up and down in slow, languid movements, inhaling the growing scent of Vergil's arousal, the proof of it in the taste of pre-come on his tongue. Vergil touched him at last, his palm to Dante's cheek. The thin leather of his glove was soft and not unpleasant, but nothing like Vergil's hand would feel without it. His other hand rested on the top of Dante's head, like he was steadying himself. (Dante always wanted to be the one Vergil could rest upon and rely on.)

Dante started moving faster, using his tongue to his advantage, careful to keep his teeth human and away from Vergil as he licked all over him, took him in and out again, never letting the tip of his cock fall out of his mouth. He half-expected Vergil to force him to keep still and fuck into his mouth for the last moments, but Vergil held himself back today, letting Dante do all the work. Dante was more than happy with that, and happier still when Vergil came down his throat with a moan that sounded almost like Dante's name. Dante kept his mouth around him, made sure to take what Vergil gave him like he always did. 

And then, because Vergil could be merciful, he slid his bare fingers over Dante's face, his thumb catching Dante's lip where it was still stretched around Vergil's cock, and the touch did it. Dante lost himself in the pleasure for a timeless moment, not the world-shattering intensity that came from Vergil fucking him sometimes, but an equally good soft, all-encompassing contentedness full of satisfaction derived from taking care of his big brother.

He came back to his senses to find Vergil completely clothed again, but still within arm's reach, his fingers cupping Dante's face, stroking over his cheekbones lightly, carefully; like Dante was the one who'd been broken and remade, like if he weren't gentle, he'd destroy him accidentally.

Vergil fit his hand around Dante's throat, the sensation of it so welcome that Dante's demon didn't even growl in his soul at the threat. Dante stood when Vergil pulled him up, although his legs were shaking and his trousers were just becoming uncomfortable, and he couldn't do much to reciprocate the kiss Vergil gave him, insistent and devouring, for a brief, wonderful moment relaxed enough to press against Dante's body as he kissed him, and kissed, and kissed, tasting both Dante and himself on Dante's lips.

He moved away when he was done—he always did—and though Dante wanted to go after him immediately, keep the kiss going until they blacked out from the lack of air, he kept himself still. Everything had to be Vergil's decision here, but as long as Dante could be near him, he was okay with that. And Vergil's smile was untroubled when he looked at Dante now: the best reward of all.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic also has a [twitter post](https://twitter.com/tonytears/status/1181677903534329858) :)


End file.
